


contretemps

by orphan_account



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Ballerina Pearl, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dysmenorrhea, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Pearl/Rose Quartz (Steven Universe), Menstruation, Nausea, Sickfic, Vomiting, garnet is best bestie, pearl is goin thru it, period fic, platonic Pearl/Garnet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Human AU. Pearl is determined to impress Rose Quartz. Luck may not be on her side, but fortunately, her roommate is.
Relationships: Garnet/Pearl (Steven Universe), Pearl/Rose Quartz (Steven Universe)
Kudos: 24





	contretemps

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [bittersweet synchrony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26101693) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



“Alright!” Rose calls across the studio, as she flicks the music off. “Not bad, ladies. Yvette, remember to really bring the emotion into your movements - you both need to convey longing, yearning, hopeless pining. Show the weight of it in your arms, how you move through the space - demonstrate it all with your body, as well as your face.”

“I’ll show you emotion when Pearl can hold her attitude steady,” Yvette grumbles disdainfully, stepping back to the barre, bending into a figure-of-four stretch as she flexes her ankle. Rose narrows her eyes at the tone, but turns back to the CD changer.

Pearl swallows, cheeks flaming. They’ve only got the studio for an hour and it feels like half their allotted time has been given over to her making stupid mistakes. All because...

She’d been delighted to accept Rose’s suggestion of an extra Saturday morning spent marking steps for the upcoming spring recital. Her solo is solid - Rose had even called it “gorgeous” and oh, Pearl had glowed at that; tucking the praise away for safekeeping, like a talisman against evil. There are still a few shaky parts in the pas de deux in Act Two, however, and Rose had asked her as a favour to help Yvette practice.

Pearl had eagerly agreed, positively dizzy at the prospect of additional time with Rose. She’d allowed her mind to stray down into the verdant valley of possibility: maybe she could suggest they get coffee afterwards, or study together in the library... because honestly, she would say yes to anything, go anywhere, as long as she could bask in the cherry-wine glow of Rose’s company. She tries her best not to be too needy or obvious during group rehearsals, but the giggles and whispers from the dressing room indicate that her tiny crush hasn’t gone unnoticed.

It’s fine. Honestly. It isn’t as though she’s the only one. Half the campus seem to turn their heads when Rose walks by, blithely unaffected by entire groups of passerby peeling their jaws off the floor in her wake. The more persistent admirers are kindly but firmly rebuffed - Pearl pities them; knowing as she does that Rose is broadly unimpressed by those who fall at her feet with demonstrative declarations of love, ardour based on her reputation alone.

Pearl knows that she’s looking for someone who wants to really know her, that she insists on forging an emotional connection before she starts to date anyone... and she can’t help but nurse a secret ember of hope that maybe, just maybe, their friendship could yet blossom into something even sweeter.

But it hasn’t (yet), since Pearl hasn’t dared put her feelings into words (yet); plus Rose’s many commitments have made it impossible for Pearl to find the perfect moment to do so (yet).

They’d both stayed on campus for spring break: Rose, swamped with long-procrastinated assignments ahead of finals; Pearl, turning down Garnet’s invitation to spend vacation at hers with the hope of making some inroads on her personal project - Asking Out Rose Quartz. It certainly hadn’t been a wasted vacation. Their work had gotten done; despite the heady, distracting strawberry scent of Rose’s hair, tumbling loose around her shoulders as they worked side-by-side. Her heart had swooped every time Rose had laughed at her jokes; which was gloriously often, the soft crescendo of her giggling hastily muffled in the silent study area. She’d memorised the way Rose’s lips curved into a perfect Cupid’s bow around an awestruck “you’re so smart, Pearl” as she proofed her essays for her; the recall clearer and more immediate than any of her carefully written notes.

And, one glorious night - which she’d recounted in exhaustive detail, over and over, to a good-naturedly exasperated Garnet - she and Rose had paused in the doorway after bidding one another goodnight, and the effervescent crackle of do-we-don’t-we tension had simmered palpably between them, like ozone in the air before a storm. Pearl had been rooted to the spot, trembling with indecision, but Rose’s eyes had taken on an even more dazzling sparkle as she said “I’ll see you very soon, Pearl”, before turning to leave with a blown kiss and a wink.

She’d thrown herself on her bed after, grinning into her pillow, replaying it in her mind, savouring the memory as intently as if Rose’s lips had actually touched hers - and then, of course, she’d called Garnet for the first of many breathless play-by-plays.

But aside from this cherished, overanalysed morsel of a moment, Rose remains seemingly oblivious to the fact that Pearl nigh-on spontaneously combusts when she takes her hand, leads her through a turn, smiles across the room at her. And Pearl can cope with that. When Rose is involved, she will greedily take whatever she can get - and if what Rose offers is an hour’s ballet at the crack of dawn on a weekend, Pearl will grab the opportunity with both hands.

She’d done everything she could to ensure her time with Rose was uninterrupted: completed all her assignments early; rearranged her entire schedule, embellishing ‘Ballet with Rose’ with little hearts on her planner; and gone to bed early the previous night, as if she could hurry away the hours to the desired day. It hadn’t worked. She’d still lain awake for ages, fidgeting, fizzing with nerves and anticipation. It was long after Garnet had turned in that Pearl finally managed to nod off.

Upon waking, however, she’d received an unwelcome surprise: her period, which she’d been fervently praying to avoid for another day or two at least. From the look of things, her inability to swallow pills is set to be her downfall.

She’d walked to the studio with only a mild ache in her back and stomach, feeling hopeful that she would be able to perform to her usual standard. Forty minutes later, the pain has notched up and up in intensity, and now she’s barely able to focus through each wave of cramps. It hasn’t escaped Yvette’s notice - they’re supposed to be moving in perfect synchrony for this part, but Pearl’s balance is off and the fluidity of her movements is hampered by the pain.

“What is with you today?” hisses Yvette, as Pearl misses the music cue to rise onto pointe. Pearl mutters noncommitally, takes a deep breath, tries to focus on stretching through the top of her head, elevating to the balls of her feet, then the toes -

It’s too much. Tensing through her core tweaks the pain up another level, past the point at which Pearl can push through it, and she drops her heels with a whine of dismay. She’s been en pointe for a decade. This is ridiculous. She stammers an apology, tries again, fails again, stares down in horror at her treacherous body.

She can feel sweat beading at the back of her neck, and it takes all her effort to remain stood up straight - all she wants to do is curl up into a protective ball, around the hateful organ sending ripples of pain through her whole midsection.

“Seriously?” Yvette curls her lip. “I thought you were meant to be the best. This isn’t even worth me getting up early for.”

“Pearl?” Rose calls, softly. “Could you come with me a moment?”

“I have t-to practice the adage...” she protests, trying to keep her voice even. It fails. Rose gives her a critical once-over, dark eyes keen above her plump lips.

“It can wait.” The senior tilts her head toward the door. “Yvette can work on her _port de bras_ \- oh, don’t pout,” she warns, as Yvette makes an indignant noise. “I just need your advice on staging for the chorus, Pearl. Come on.”

“Have fun”, Yvette snickers, under her breath, clearly reveling in the prospect of Pearl being scolded. Pearl glares at her as she trails after Rose, forcing herself to walk normally despite the pain making her want to bend double.

The door to the studio closes, muffling the piano track they’d been rehearsing to. Rose checks they’re alone in the hallway before saying, her tone heartbreakingly sweet and concerned, “Pearl. You should _never_ have come to practice in this much pain. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I can still - “ Pearl bites her lip, clenches her hands into fists, using all her effort to straighten up despite the cramps. It feels like a superheated bowling ball being dropped on her belly, over and over, crunching through her hips and the first few vertebrae to boot.

“No. You can just about stand,” Rose tells her, gently. “I want you to go home, Pearl. Please. I won’t stand by and allow you to force yourself to rehearse in this state. Yvette needs the practice far more than you, in any case.” She smiles warmly, and the sight would usually set Pearl’s heart thumping, but at the present moment she’s too preoccupied trying to remain upright. Rose continues. “If it wasn’t for your tummy hurting you’d be impeccable, as usual.”

“I - “ Pearl’s voice is cut off as the breath is sucked out of her by a hot sickly twist of pain, and she crumples forward, arms wrapped around her stomach. Rose kneels beside her, eyes kind.

“I’m going to call Garnet. She’ll be done training soon and she can see you get safely home.”

“No - “ Pearl whimpers, vision swimming. It’s bad enough Rose has figured her out. Roommates and best friends or not, if Garnet is clued in - if she has to miss her usual morning boxing because of this nonsense - she feels like embarrassment will kill her before the cramps do.

“Goodness me, Pearl,” Rose tuts, softly. “Are you always this stubborn?”

Pearl hangs her head, unsure what to say. She blinks hard, presses her lips together into a thin line, desperately trying not to cry outright. Rose, of course, notices.

“Oh, no, Pearl - don’t get upset! I only meant that I know how hard you work. You’re always pushing yourself. But you don’t get a say this time, sweetheart,” Rose tells her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The contact and the endearment make her want to die, and she wishes she could lean into it, into Rose, but the pain forces her to stay still. “Do you need any tampons, or anything?”

Pearl wishes she could evaporate on the spot, as if the burning shame she feels could vaporise her from the inside out. “N-no!” she splutters, blushing to the roots of her hair.

“Okay,” Rose says, nonchalantly. “I’m going to call Garnet, she’s only in the gym. I’ll have her meet you in the locker room, since it’s only us who have the dance studio booked this morning.”

“Please - “ Pearl groans, trying desperately to tell Rose that she can carry on, she can’t - she _won’t_ \- let her down. Rose cuts her off with a gentle pointer finger on her lip.

“Go sit down. I’ll deal with Yvette. Please...” She rests a hand on Pearl’s shoulder, eyes butter-soft. “Be gentle with yourself. For me?”

Pearl’s bottom lip trembles as she nods.

“That’s my Pearl,” Rose twinkles. “Go on, Garnet won’t take long - I expect she’ll hurry when I explain you’re under the weather.”

Under the weather. Such a neat, vague, multipurpose catch-all. Pearl makes a mental note to save that one for future use as she stumbles dejectedly to the locker room, finding it mercifully empty - the only items hanging on the hooks are her own and Yvette’s.

She sits with a pitiful little moan of pain on the wooden bench beside her bag. She tugs her hair free of its tight bun, scattering hairpins hither and yon without the will to pick them up, before leaning back against the wall with both hands clutching her stomach.

 _Stop it. Just_ stop it _. Please._

But no amount of internally berating her body forces it into compliance. She feels a few tears slip out under her lashes and screws up her face, sniffling. Frustrated, in agony, and desperately ashamed of herself, she slowly draws her legs up, hugging her knees as she starts crying in earnest.

“Pearl?” Garnet’s voice echoes in the dark room. She swallows, raising her tearstained face off her arms a fraction.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I tried to tell Rose not to bother you - “

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m glad she called.” The bench creaks as Garnet sits down beside her. After a moment, the taller girl bends and starts to gather up the hairpins, scattered like confetti around Pearl’s dejected perch. “You didn’t look at all well this morning - I can’t believe you came to rehearse in this state. What were you _thinking_?”

“I thought I could handle it...” Pearl manages, tensing up as a particularly sharp cramp wracks her body. Garnet softens, then digs in the pocket of her letterman jacket.

“Here. Just paracetamol. I take it for my headaches.”

Pearl shakes her head bitterly. “I can’t.”

“Pearl, you don’t need to prove - “

“No, I can’t,” she insists. “I can’t swallow pills. I’ve never been able to.”

“Oh,” Garnet replies. “So you just deal with this every month?”

“It... isn’t always so bad,” Pearl replies, teeth gritted against a pulse of pain. _It’s getting worse. How can it be getting worse?_ “But yes. I can’t take medicine for pain relief.”

“You should see a doctor.”

“I have,” Pearl hisses, wet cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “There’s nothing medically wrong. It just hurts. For no good reason. And I should be able to manage - ah!”

It feels as though a hot fist of spiked iron has clenched around her womb, twisting within her, horrible and painful. She pitches forward, unfolding her legs as she does so she’s sat doubled over, forcing herself to breathe through the onslaught. Garnet lays a hand on her lower back. Her hand is warm, and the slight pressure is comforting though it brings no relief.

“We need to get you home. You’ll feel better once you’re out of your dance kit and in bed. Do you think you can walk?”

“I - “

“Be honest.”

“...No,” she mumbles into her knees.

“I’ll get us a cab. This all your stuff?”

Pearl nods. Garnet passes her her bag from the coathook and she slowly swaps her ballet shoes for her sneakers, as Garnet pulls out her cell and orders the taxi, watching her closely.

She’s feeling queasy by the time they buckle up, when their taxi arrives less than five minutes later. The drive is short but she shuts her eyes tight, lips pressed together, back ramrod straight as she breathes shallowly through her nose in an attempt to quell the nausea that seems to worsen with every low throb of pain.

Once they reach the dorms, she steps clumsily out of the back seat, suddenly shaky. Garnet darts to her side, grips her gently by the elbow.

“Easy,” she hums. Pearl’s eyes snap open as the cramps seem to sharpen, somehow, the aching becoming a stabbing. Her stomach churns and her eyes sting. _No. Please, no._

“Come on, Pearl” Garnet urges. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Pearl shakes her head wildly as she turns bone-white, panic rising, riding the cresting wave of pain and nausea. She feels her mouth begin to water, just managing to wrench away from Garnet and grab the low wall for support as she retches, twice, bringing nothing up - in full view of anyone passing by, right next to Garnet. She starts to sob weakly, unable to look at her roommate, mortified beyond words and in so much pain she can scarcely lift her head.

“Okay,” Garnet says, softly, rubbing her heaving shoulders. “It’s okay. I... I’m going to pick you up. I’ll be gentle.”

Pearl tries to protest through her tears but Garnet stoops, catching her by the back of her buckling knees, scooping Pearl into her arms as easily as if she were a child. Garnet’s broad shoulders are solid with muscle as she straightens, seemingly with no effort at all, as she fishes out her key fob, lets herself into their block and carries Pearl up the two flights of stairs to their dorm.

Pearl rests her head on Garnet’s shoulder, hiding her face from any gawkers, hiccoughing sobs around shallow breaths. She feels lucky at least that she hadn’t been able to face breakfast, her empty stomach the only thing preventing her from vomiting - and Garnet had seen everything.

No doubt she’ll be the subject of campus gossip by sundown, with people assuming all sorts about the reason for the star of the dance troupe nearly hurling outside the dorms midmorning and being _carried_ indoors by her roommate. What if campus security find out? Her teachers? The Dean? Nobody will believe the real reason - naturally, they’ll think she was out partying, despite never having touched a drop of alcohol in her life outside of Communion. Then her scholarship will be in jeopardy, as well as her spot in the dance troupe; and she’ll be kicked out of the dorm, expelled from college, left with no degree, no home, no future.

The thoughts spiral, each more awful than the last; and it makes her cry harder, though each sob sends another twist of pain through her belly.

Garnet unlocks their door, flicks on her dim lamp one-handed, then bends to deposit Pearl carefully on her neatly made bed.

“Here we are. What can I get you?”

“I - “ Pearl barely stifles a moan as she cups her stomach with both hands. “I don’t - oh... God. Ow.” Her eyes glaze over as the pain forces her to curl up tighter.

“What would you usually do when your period hits you this hard?” Garnet asks. “You can’t take medicine, I know - but is there anything else that helps?”

“I... “ Pearl sniffles, forces herself to focus. “There’s a heat pack. Microwaveable. In my top drawer. It sometimes helps.”

“I’ll go zap it for you,” Garnet offers.

“No! I’ll go, please don’t put yourself out, I just... ah,” Pearl whimpers. “I just need a minute.”

“So take a minute,” Garnet smiles, already digging in Pearl’s top drawer, pulling out the baby pink wheat bag. “Sit tight. I’ll go get this sorted for you.”

Pearl closes her eyes, hearing Garnet leave and head towards the kitchen. She knows she should get out of her leotard and into the shower, realising with deepening mortification that she probably stinks on top of being pathetic enough to let cramps stop her practicing. She’s inconvenienced Rose and Garnet and even Yvette. She is disgusting. And now Garnet is taking care of her, giving even more of her valuable time to Pearl. She doesn’t deserve it. She needs to toughen up.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Pearl sits up, swinging her legs off the bed to bring herself to a sitting position on the edge of her mattress. It’s a mistake, she realises, as soon as she’s upright. The sudden movement turns her abdomen into a hot molten pillar of pain and she gives a little cry of dismay as it sends her pitching forwards, gripping the comforter. Her mouth is watering ominously again. _Oh God_.

Garnet swings the door open as Pearl claps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, face a pallid greeny-white. Quicker than liquid, she grabs the trashcan from beside her desk and shoves it between Pearl’s knees. Unable to suppress it, she retches, over and over. The cramps roil relentlessly as she dryheaves, clammy from pain and nausea, clinging to the trashcan for dear life.

Garnet releases her hold on the plastic rim once Pearl’s grip is secure; but a moment later she feels deft fingers at the nape of her neck. It takes a moment, but eventually she realizes Garnet is gently tying her hair back.

“Oh, Pearl,” her roommate murmurs. “I’m so sorry. I never knew you got it this bad. Why didn’t you say?”

Pearl manages a shaky breath, throat and nose burning, as she wills her body to stop rebelling against her. “It isn’t always so awful. This just happens a couple of - “ She retches again, re-emerging with a groan. “Urgh. A couple of times a year. Impossible to predict. Often enough to be a nuisance.”

She feels herself go queasily hot, and is force to lean her forehead against the rim of the trashcan. Garnet’s trashcan. She gives a mortified little whine as Garnet sits right beside her, slips an arm around her - then, she feels something blessedly warm pressing against her stomach.

“Here. Keep hold of the bin. I got you.”

She manages to grip the trashcan between her knees, wrapping her arms around it, as Garnet holds the wheat bag against her abdomen, right where it hurts the most. It’s intimate - while they’ve become close friends (the closest friend Pearl has ever had, aside from Rose) this is certainly the most vulnerable Pearl has felt around her roommate. She isn’t in a position to fight it, though, as she gags again, only managing to bring up acid and saliva. Garnet’s cool right hand comes up to meet her damp forehead.

“I am so sorry,” she manages, choked with embarrassment.

“Don’t be. It’s just us, and I don’t mind. One of my mums used to get pain like this. And she’d get feverish,” Garnet comments, stroking back her bangs. “Looks like you do, too. Are you absolutely sure you don’t need to go to the nurse?”

Pearl nods her head shakily. “First day is the worst. Heat helps. Sleep helps. It just...” She’s trembling as she sits up, resting her own hands over Garnet’s, holding the heat pack as close as she can manage. “I feel stupid. It shouldn’t affect me like this, there’s no excuse...”

“You can’t help feeling so sick,” Garnet tells her. “I get migraines, sometimes, when it’s my time of the month. They have me out of commission for days if they get intense and I don’t take my medicine when it first starts. You wouldn’t make me feel bad over that, would you?”

Pearl shakes her head weakly, gripping the trashcan between her knees as she presses the heat pack as hard as she dares against her cramping belly. “It feels so silly. I’m in college. There’s no good reason for me to be affected this badly.”

“Just because there isn’t a concrete reason doesn’t mean it isn’t legitimate,” Garnet says, voice low and calming. “You don’t do yourself any favors by forcing yourself to dance til you drop while you’re this unwell. Take some time to recover - then go back another day and show that little snot from the Yellow dorms what you’re made of.”

Pearl manages a dull laugh. “She thinks I’m a joke. And Rose...” She wants to die of shame, wondering what the gorgeous senior must think of her. “Rose is going to hate me. She’ll think I’m pathetic. This is s-so embarrassing.”

“Rose won’t think any less of you,” Garnet reassures. “She was seriously worried when she called me - she felt like you’d overstretched yourself on her account. She’ll be happy to know you’re home and resting up.”

“But she asked me to rehearse with her!And she’s so busy and she’s - she’s Rose!” Pearl falters, voice dangerously wobbly. “What if that’s my only chance to... to practice with her, and I blew it, all because I can’t even cope with a stomach ache!” She can feel her eyes prickling again, humiliated and overwhelmed.

Garnet frowns. This is not her first dalliance with her roommate’s rollercoaster of Rose-centric emotions, by any stretch of the imagination; the dizzying highs and plummeting lows only exacerbated by her cycle. She takes the trashcan, places it down; then withdraws her hand to rub Pearl’s back as she bursts into a fresh storm of tears, folding herself around the heat pack.

“I know how badly you want to spend time with Rose,” Garnet says, softly, the inference clear. “But you’re just not well enough. You can’t practice in this state, and Rose feels guilty that you even tried.”

“But I could have tried harder,” Pearl sobs. Her roommate sighs, pulling Pearl gently toward her until they’re shoulder to-shoulder. In no fit state to protest, Pearl pulls her legs up onto the bed and hunches in a ball, leaning against the warm stability of her best friend with Garnet’s comforting arm still around her.

It isn’t fair. She’s embarrassed and she’s upset and it still hurts, _so_ much. Powerless to do anything else, she cries until her throat is raw, occasionally interrupted by a little gasp or groan of pain - and Garnet stays right there with her, presence quiet and comforting, rubbing her shuddering back. 

“I know you have study group tonight,” she hums, voice low, as Pearl’s tears gradually begin to dry, “but I really think you should call out sick.”

Pearl checks her wristwatch, then squeaks in alarm, tries to sit up - until the pain forces her back with an anguished whimper.

“I can’t,” she wails, eyes wide and anxious. Garnet raises an eyebrow.

“You can barely move. If I had one of my migraines, you’d be telling me to rest and fussing over me. Wouldn’t you?”

“I - of course,” Pearl hesitates. “But - “

“Then don’t be a hypocrite. You can take one day,” Garnet coaxes. “Do it for me.”

“I’ve fenced like this before,” Pearl sniffs, petulantly. “And I _won_.”

Garnet rolls her eyes, exasperated and fond. For her many talents, Pearl is utterly inept at - or, more accurately, willfully averse to - recognizing when to back down. It’s endearing, if a little exhausting, but Garnet wouldn’t change her if she could. She ruffles Pearl’s mussed hair affectionately, stroking it back from her sweaty brow.

“I know, I know. But you don’t need to prove anything to me. C’mon. _One_ day to rest and recuperate. The stress of trying to push through won’t be helping the cramps.”

“...Ugh. Sometimes I hate it when you’re right,” Pearl grumbles, rubbing her eyes with a wince as she grips the heat pack tighter. “Okay, I’ll text them. I just hate this. I feel useless.”

“Not at all.” Garnet replies evenly. “In fact, I’d say you’re just about the perfect person for me to watch movies with. It’s Saturday. We can have a PJ day.” She smiles warmly down at Pearl’s forlorn figure. “It’s been way too long since the last one.”

Pearl sighs, flinching at a spasm of pain. “That... does sound good.”

“The showers were clear earlier, think everyone’s still in bed. Should be plenty of hot water. Can you manage, if you take it slow?”

“I...” Pearl sits up, more cautiously this time. It hurts, but the pain is less intense for the now-cooling heat pack, and the nausea seems to have abated for the time being. “Yes.”

“I’ll have that hot and ready for you when you’re back,” Garnet promises. “And I’ll make you a tea to settle your stomach.”

Pearl worries her lip. “I think I’m all out.”

“Don’t sweat it. I got ginger.” The taller woman raises a knowing eyebrow. “I’m no engineering ballerina genius, but I do know how to use a calendar.”

Pearl feels blotchy heat surge across her cheeks. “Garnet!” she splutters. Logically she knows it’s basic biology, nothing to be embarrassed by, but as close as they are it’s just so... personal.

“We’ve shared a room for half a year,” Garnet says, reassuring. “Plus, two days ago you had a tantrum ‘cause you misidentified a coefficient in a cubic polynomial. The writing was on the wall.”

“It was a stupid mistake. A high schooler could’ve gotten it right.”

“You threw your textbook across our room, then burst into tears, said you were too dumb for college and wanted to drop out,” Garnet chuckles, as Pearl turns scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs, cringing. “I do sometimes get a little... agitated.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Garnet tells her, squeezing her shoulder, “providing you remember to take care of yourself. And if it gets this bad, tell someone else so they can help. It’s no trouble. You’d do the same for me.”

“I would,” Pearl admits, defeated. Garnet grins.

“I know. It’s what best friends do. So - go shower, change, do whatever you need to get comfy. Then when you’re ready, we can lay down and watch Lonely Blades I through III.”

“...Will you mind if I point out the improper swordplay techniques?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

* * *

Much later, Pearl is bundled in a cocoon of blankets, head on Garnet’s shoulder. Her heat pack is tucked in around her stomach - the cramps still making their presence known, but nowhere near as intense as the morning. They’re partway through Lonely Blade III when the dark of their room is illuminated by the bluish glow of her cell.

Sleepily, she reaches for it - then squawks as she sees the name on the screen, four familiar letters sending her careening into flustered wakefulness

_heyyy u. pls dnt stress out abt b4 (kno what ur lyk!!!!) lmk if you need nythin or if i can try 2 cheer u up. hope ur not feelin 2 bad, qt <3 c u soon? xoxox _

“I... don’t understand,” Pearl yelps. Lonely Blade is ignored - along with another opportunity to criticise the screenwriter’s clear absence of research into the handling of bladed weaponry - as she thrusts the phone at Garnet with a panicked plea. “Help me.”

Her roommate reads the message in silence, then cracks into a shrewd grin.

“Q...T,” she reads aloud, tapping the screen.

Pearl is fairly certain that the blush which explodes onto her face could heat the whole dorm. Garnet chuckles wryly, giving her best friend a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah... you should definitely text her,” she says, with the barest hint of a smirk, then turns her attention back to the screen.

Pearl tucks herself back against Garnet’s side, one eye on the movie, one eye on her phone; as she taps out a reply with a hopeful smile beginning to creep across her blazing cheeks. Her stomach flutters oddly, in a way that has nothing to do with her period and absolutely everything to do with Rose -

-because maybe ( _how dare she!_ ), just maybe ( _but_ dare _she?_ ), she still has a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> psa: if you’re a menstruator and your cramps are this bad, see your ob/gyn. stamp your feet until you get listened to. if you’re in too much pain to stamp your feet, ask a friend to stamp theirs for you. alternate remedy: write fanfic and project your hell onto fictional characters.


End file.
